


Thanks for the Memories

by Mutant_Toad



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Parenticide, Sex for stress relief, body disposal, character back story, new identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-29 13:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13928499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mutant_Toad/pseuds/Mutant_Toad
Summary: Two little rings can mean a lot.**Update 3/15/2018: Added an 11th chapter to portray the 'Abominable Bride' version of the story.**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware that Mark Gatiss has already stated that Mycroft's ring means nothing. That it's just a prop for the character...but fanfic writers are going to do what fanfic writers do.

“Mycroft Holmes, isn’t it?”

He turned to see the source of the voice. Like many girls her age, she was tall and a little gangly. Dark brown hair, pin straight down around her face and just barely touching her shoulders. A little oily and thin, but nothing unclean looking. A natural light tan complexion free of the dreaded teenage acne, but there was a small chicken pox scar on the left side of her chin. Her body shape was slightly disproportionate. A larger chest with slim hips, obviously still growing into her form.

Judging by the cake crumbs on her school blazer, she was no stranger to pastries. More evident by the slight heaviness around her midsection. Something he was all too familiar with himself. Her’s would likely even out to her hips some day to balance out her chest, but he would be left to try to figure it out for himself.

Other than the little crumbs, she was clean and tidy in her school uniform. The navy blue blazer and pleated, same colored, skirt were iron near even after the school day. She wasn’t prone to fidgeting, if he had to guess. Her shoes were clean and shined, so she either didn’t partake in physical classes or had a way out of them. Her cranberry colored tights were free of runs and her same colored sweater shirt was free of lint. 

The crest on the left breast of the blazer showed she went to the sister school of his own. Her family had the funds, or at least the connections, to send her to a private school. The weight of her school messenger bag suggested a large volume of books. An amount more than the bag was meant to carry. Either she was intelligent or she was striving to find a way to pass her classes through cram sessions. 

Normally, he preferred to stay at school for the holiday breaks, but mother had insisted on him coming home for the winter break. Had he ignored her request, he would not be standing at the end of the stone path to his house with some girl stopping him. He could be resting in his dorm bed and pretending like the outside world didn’t exist for a little bit. But no. He was standing here with this incredibly plain girl who would likely want some sort of conversation that he was going to have to force himself through.

“Yes,” he kept the answer short. He didn’t want to prolong this any longer than it needed to be. If he felt it was going on too long, he would simply cut her off and walk away. Mycroft always attempted to give people a chance to tell them what they wanted, but he was particularly short tempered lately.

She inhaled deeply and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she mentally talked herself up to speak again. Anymore of this and he was going to start walking away, “I’m Bryony Ward.”

“Brittany?”

“Bryony.”

Strange names were no stranger to him, but her name wasn’t sitting well in his mind, “Brittany?”

“Bryony.”

“I’m sorry, spell that.”

The look on her face was one he was familiar with due to his own name, “B-R-Y-O-N-Y. Like Brian, with a long ‘ee’ at the end. It’s a plant. My parents were morons.”

Again, something he felt familiar with, but nothing he wanted to discuss. Mycroft shook his head a little, “What was it you wanted?”

“Right, uh…” while he could see she was nervous, it wasn’t her natural personality. Her eyes were clear, her body wasn’t tense, and she wasn’t displaying any of the usual nervous habits people had. She was nervous about the topic of conversation she was attempting to get out. She held herself up high and never broke eye contact with him. She was a confident girl for her age.

“Be quick about this. I have thing I need to do.”

Bryony took a deep breath and nodded, “Right. Sorry. I have a request to make and I’d prefer to speak in private…” she trailed off for a moment, holding his gaze, obviously hoping he would invite her inside, but he didn’t and just stayed silent till she seemed to get the point, “...but I guess since no one is around this is as good a place as any.”

“I did say quick, didn’t I?”

Her eyes narrowed a little, but she didn’t verbally strike out the way he could tell she wanted to. Bryony was restraining herself, “Alright then. I’ll be perfectly blunt. I’m ready to lose my virginity and I would like to consider doing so with you,” before he could stop and make sure he heard her correctly, she continued, “I’ve thought about this quite a bit. I’ve never, and don’t foresee in the future, having any sort of attraction to anyone. Frankly, I have no interest in it. I do, however, refuse to ignore that sex could be a…” she paused for a moment to consider her words, “...pleasant experience. People say that women can be fickle and emotional creatures, but men can too. I don’t want any guy mistaking my request for anything more than what it is. From what I’ve heard, you are…”

“Stubborn?”

She smiled a little, “I was going to say logic minded.”

“Much preferable description.”

“I just figure someone like you, if you indeed are what I’ve heard you to be, would understand my request.”

Mycroft did understand it and he found it rather shocking, not that it would show on his face, “I do understand. You want sex without the possibility of romantic entanglement to see if it might be something you would consider doing in the future. You’ve chosen me, someone you know nothing about, based on word of mouth. Which means those you do know are not able to put their emotions aside to get the job done or you would simply prefer to go through with this with a stranger because it’s easier,” and her friends might think her some kind of tramp if they knew what she was doing right now.

She smiled again, “You’re correct.”

It was hard not to be intrigued a little bit. Mycroft wouldn’t admit it, but he understood what she was going through. Sex sounded like it would be pleasant, but the annoyance that came with the emotional side of it just sounded draining. He was sure he was smart enough to convince a woman to sleep with him and just cut off ties with her, but he knew that humans were rarely that simple. A woman might decide to stalk him or not keep it to herself what they had done. Paying for it was out of the question.

Bryony was offering him an out to those issues. The human, teenager side of his body urged him to accept immediately, but Mycroft had always been good at shutting off those impulses, “What is a word your friends would use to describe you?”

“Do you want the nice description or the way they word it?”

He thought for a moment, “Both.”

“Efficient and...icy, but well meaning, bitch.”

It was hard to stop the small curl on the corners of his lips. Even still, he wouldn’t accept, “Are you on winter holidays?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I’ll answer you in a week.”

“A week? Why a week?” he wondered if she really expected him to just say yes and be done with it. Perhaps she did. Just went to show that she didn’t know him all that well, “That’s understandable. I’m at four-fifteen Mullins or…” she dug a notebook from her bag and wrote down her house number to hold out to him, “Feel free to call. I have no plans,” she seemed to have friends from a few things she said, but she had no plans while school was out. She didn’t put a restriction on days or times for family functions either, “If you decide no, please let me know. I’m not one to get disappointed, but I would like to know as soon as possible if I need to start searching for someone else.”

“I will be in touch within the week.”

He expected her to say more, but she just nodded her head lightly and turned away from him, “Enjoy your holidays,” she said as more of a closure for the conversation. 

Mycroft was pleased with how quickly she removed herself from the situation.

As he started back towards his family home, he couldn’t decide what the feeling he was having was. Flattery? 

Yes. It was flattery.

Most likely wouldn’t have felt that way about a girl asking them for emotionless sex and that they had been picked because they were known for being emotionless; but he’d never felt the same things as other people.


	2. Chapter 2

The decision hadn’t been terribly difficult. She wasn’t a physically unpleasant person and she wasn’t as dull as most people he was used to interacting with at school. She had also presented herself rather well in her request. Mycroft had toyed with the idea of what it would be like to have sexual experiences, but he was always worried about the emotional side effects. It wasn’t his emotions he was concerned with, but rather who ever would be his partner. Not that he cared what their emotions about it was. Instead, he was worried about what those emotions would cause. A boy at his school got stabbed by a girl he had slept with and cut ties with. Mycroft didn’t need risking a situation like that. His family was work enough without that happening.

The Wards were an old family in the area, but a small family. Bryony was the only child of Isabelle and George Ward. She was the product of old age childbearing. Her mother having a surprise pregnancy at the cusp of menopause. The two families had never crossed paths before, mostly because of the Ward’s more reclusive nature and a decent sized age gap between his parents age and her parents age. George Ward held an accounting position for an bank, but it was mostly title at this point given his advanced age and he worked strictly from home. Isabelle Ward lived most of her life off a trust fund and family money. They were well off and very quiet about it. 

After giving himself the time to study Bryony from his memory of their short interaction and with what he could find out about her, he felt the decision was simple. She would be an acceptable partner.

He’d phoned ahead to let her know he wanted to come over to work out an agreement. Mycroft wasn’t about to go through with this without discussing it more fully first. He had some things he wanted her to agree to and clarify.

The Ward home was about the size of his own family home. It was dark, cold, and dreary despite the holiday season. There was no lit tree in the window and only one light was on. The driveway was void of not only a vehicle, but even tracks. It looked as if there hadn’t been a vehicle on the stones and dirt in years. Other than being a curious thing, it really wasn’t his business or important as to how her family received transportation.

He knocked lightly on the door and she answered promptly. She was wearing a similar outfit to her school uniform. The skirt was a little longer, but it was the same except the colors. Gone was the navy and cranberry, replaced with black and white. She was even wearing a blazer still, though lacking the crest. Even he adopted a more relaxed clothing style when he was allowed to, but Bryony seemed content to remain dressed for school. Again, curious, but easy to ignore. 

“Holmes,” her use of his last name only made this seem more professional, which felt better for him. Making it about the physical would be uncomfortable. Better to treat this as business like as possible.

“Ward,” he stepped inside as she moved and waited for her to lead him as she closed and locked the door.

The interior was chilly, no fire had been lit. He got the smell of stale cigarette smoke. It wasn’t an unpleasant scent to him. He’d recently picked up the habit and somewhat liked the smell. It was much more organized and clean than his own home. Why his mother insisted on having ‘things’ was beyond him. The Wards didn’t seem to have that issue. Everything was dusted and clean. 

Mycroft took every detail in as she lead him to the sitting room, the one light he had seen from the outside windows. There was tea sitting on the table, steam rising out of the pot spout. It seemed like the only warm thing in the house. It seemed that her telling him that people described her as _icy_ went towards her whole family and not just herself.

He waited for her to sit down in one of the chairs before sitting on the other side of the table from her. She didn’t sit back all the way, rather she stayed towards the edge of her seat. Her hands in her lap and her back straight. She looked about as relaxed as he felt on a day to day basis. 

“Would you like some tea?” it was the polite thing for her to offer.

“No thank you. Maybe when we’re finished.”

Bryony nodded lightly, “Have you made a decision?”

Mycroft perked an eyebrow a little, “I thought my acceptance would have been made obvious by my coming here.”

“I try not to assume things. For all I know, you could have come over to let me down easy.”

“True enough, I suppose. Anyway, I would like to discuss a few things before fully accepting.”

“Certainly. Go ahead.”

He cleared his throat a little. He’d made a list in his head, “Will there be kissing? If so, how much do you expect?” Mycroft was knowledged in sex and things of that nature, but he had never actually experienced any of it. If she was open to it, this seemed as good a chance as any.

“Light kissing, if you’d like to. No tongue.”

He nodded, “Acceptable. Location?”

“Here. In the guest room,” no need to make this personal by being in her room, he supposed.

“Acceptable, as well. Foreplay?”

She shook her head this time, “Unnecessary. I know my body well enough to be prepared in advance,” that told him more than she likely meant for it to. She was experienced in pleasing herself and was using this situation as a chance to see if a man could do the same or better for her.

“That may be true, but if I’m to walk over here, I certainly can’t be prepared in advance,” he wasn’t about to walk down the street with a tent in his trousers.

Bryony was silent for a moment, “Very well. Light petting, during the kissing, if that will suffice for you.”

“It should,” he wondered if this would be the first and last time in his life he got to experience a woman touching him. He supposed it didn’t have to be, but he doubted all women would be as open to such a professional seeming interaction, “Do you have a day or time in mind?”

“Whenever you’re available. My parents are away,” it was curious that they would leave their child behind. Or perhaps they thought she was staying at school and she only came back because she knew they wouldn’t be home. It would explain the cold, dark, emptiness of the house. Bryony didn’t seem the type to use more of the house than she needed. It was likely she spent most of her time alone in her room. He would do the same, if he could, “Holiday in Cardiff.”

Feeling the list shorten in his head, he leaned over and poured himself some tea. The conversation was almost finished and it seemed rude not to drink a little since she had made it, “Wish mine would do the same,” he mused lightly, “Any specific positioning?”

“Missionary. I see no reason to make things complicated.”

“Agreed,” while he hadn’t admitted to this being his first time as well and she said she didn’t like to assume things, he was sure she was aware of it. Best to just keep it simple, “Protective measures?”

“I’ve been on birth control for six months, but we will be using a condom as well. Seems less...messy.”

“Agreed,” he thought for a moment to see if he had cleared out his list, “That’s everything I had to ask,” Mycroft sipped his tea a little. It was very warming. Taking the chill from the outside, and inside, from his bones, “Did you have anything?”

“More of a request than a question. When we’re done, you’re to leave immediately. No talking or discussing things. Once we’re done, I have nothing more to say to you. Also, dispose of my phone number and do try to forget it. I’m not interested in any further contact,” her words brought back the cold that the tea had been trying to chase away, “Other than that, I’m content with everything we’ve gone over.”

“Very good. I have to have dinner with my family tonight, but I’m free tomorrow afternoon.”

“One O’Clock?”

Mycroft nodded before finishing his tea, “That works for me.”

“See you then. No need to phone ahead,” she stood as he set his cup down and picked up the small serving tray the pot and cups were on, “Please show yourself out,” Bryony didn’t even bother with a polite closure to their conversation as she walked off to, what he assumed, was the direction of the kitchen. 

Straightening out his coat as he stood up, he felt satisfied with their discussion as he started to leave.


	3. Chapter 3

For the second day in a row, he was outside the Ward home and knocking on the front door. It was just as dark looking on the outside as it had been yesterday. The wind was blowing hard and cold today and he held his coat closed tight till she opened the door to let him inside. It wasn’t really any warmer inside, but at least there wasn’t any wind. He was surprised to see that she was, again, wearing a pleated skirt, sweater vest, and blazer. Though in reds and browns this time, but at least she was lacking the tights. Mycroft realized they hadn’t discussed what state of undress they would be in.

“Holmes.”

“Ward.”

No more needed to be said at the moment as she lead him through the house. From the outside, it was dark, except one room on the second floor. He assumed that was where they were going. All the doors they passed in the short hallway were closed, except for the one she lead him to. The whole place was eerily clean. Even as diligent as his mother was at cleaning, there was still dust. He wondered if it was Bryony who kept it so clean or did their family employ a very capable maid.

The room they went into reminded him of the guest room at home. Homey, but impersonal. A dresser that was likely empty, a night stand that he suspected a bible was sitting inside the drawer like a hotel room, and then the bed. A simple twin size with a quilt on top and one pillow. Mycroft wasn’t sure the state of undress they would be getting to, but if the room was going to stay this cold, he did hope they would at least be under the quilt.

While she seemed just as confident as before, he could see a little nervousness in her eyes. Slight anxiety about all of this. Not because she didn’t want to go through with it, but just the conflict in her mind over what had likely been told to her by her school, friends, and family. That what they were doing was supposed to be reserved for feelings of love or marriage. Instead, they were treating it like some kind of business transaction.

Bryony sat on the edge of the bed and he sat next to her. The silence was becoming a little awkward and he realized that as level headed as they both seemed to be, they were still human and teenagers. They were about to do something very physical, which he was sure was outside her realm of comfort as much as it was for him, “Should we...get started?” he finally broke the silence. This was her chance to back down. Mycroft wouldn’t blame her if she did. He wouldn’t press her. This was her idea to begin with and she had every right to stop whenever she pleased.

She took a deep breath and pushed her hair behind her ears before nodding, “Yes.”

Shifting a little, he pulled his coat off and laid it at the end of the bed before adjusting his position to face her a little more. This being her idea, he was leaving it up to her to get things going, “Did you have a preference for clothing?”

The look on her face told him that she had forgotten about that as he had, “Oh, uh…” she sat silent for a moment and he watched her think it over before she slipped the blazer off her shoulders and leaned over to lay it with his jacket, “I would...I would prefer to stay dressed as much as possible.”

“Would you consider taking your sweater off?” he asked as he leaned down to pull his shoes off. She followed suit to take her own off, “Unless that would be too uncomfortable for you.”

“I can manage without the sweater,” she seemed willing to compromise as she sat back up and started tugging the sweater vest up over her head. Once it was discarded, she smoothed her hair out and they once again sat in silence for a good five minutes before she said anything, “Are you ready?”

“I asked you that before. Have you changed your mind?”

Bryony shook her head a little, “No. Sorry,” this was difficult for the both of them. They were both confident in themselves, but this was about each others bodies as much as it was their own. It was always more difficult when a second person was added to any situation, “Have you kissed anyone before? Just yes or no. No details.”

He knew what this was for. She wouldn’t be asking if she had the experience, so she obviously had never kissed a boy before. She wanted to know his experience level. If he said yes, she might worry about her lack of experience. If he said no, she might relax and not be concerned about meeting some kind of expectation. It was an easy answer, luckily, and he had no reason to lie “No,” a few lines of worry on her face softened.

Even with her answer, she didn’t move to initiate the contact. Mycroft begrudgingly realized he was going to have to take matters into his own hands, as usual. Leaning over, he slid a hand over her cheek before closing the space between their lips.

It wasn’t what he had hoped a kiss would feel like, but it was what he had been expecting. The setting and situation was hardly romantic. Bryony’s lips were cold and lifeless, not that he imagined his were any better. Neither of them closed their eyes. Nor did they try to move or deep the kiss in any way. He kept one hand on her cheek and the other hung awkwardly at his side. Her own hands were balled up against the tops of her thighs.

It only lasted a moment before he pulled back, “...I’m sorry. That wasn’t...good,” she admitted.

Before he could respond in any way, Bryony leaned in again and kissed him this time. He could feel her lips pressing a little harder and she leaned against his hand on her cheek a bit. Mycroft let his eyes slide shut this time and pressed into the kiss as well. Attempting to mimic some of what he’d seen other boys do with girls outside of the school, he brought his other hand up to cup her other cheek and deepen the kiss further. She responded favorably by bringing her hands up to rest on his chest.

As their lips started to move a little, he remembered she had said no tongue the day before. It was a little disappointing, but he found it managable to avoid. Their heads tilted and moved against each other as the kissing intensified. Her back straightened a little as he moved one of his hands down around her waist and to rest on the small of her back. He felt her fingers trail down his chest to rest against his thighs as she moved in a little closer to him. 

The kissing was nice and it was certainly warming, but Mycroft didn’t feel himself rousing enough for what they planned to do. Despite not having experience, he knew in his mind the sort of things that brought on the feeling he was needing. Just as she was aware of what she needed to prepare herself, he was just as keenly aware of what he needed. She had agreed to light petting and he left it up to her on where to draw the line as he brought his other hand down from her face to her thigh.

Bryony tensed a little as he pushed her skirt up a little and touched the soft skin on her leg. She didn’t stop him, so he continued and gripped high up on her thigh gently as he pressed up against her more. The skin on her thighs was soft and gave under his finger tips. It was also warm compared to the chill air of the room. 

He was ready to push a little further, but she surprised him by trailing her fingers over the front of his trousers. She had said light petting and he supposed they couldn’t get much lighter than that. It felt nice though and it did help to solidify how real this was. Sure, they had discussed it, but he kept thinking in the back of his mind that she wouldn’t go through with it. He assumed now that she was just waiting for him to be ready since she had admitted the day before that she could prepare herself in advance. Feeling her fingers stroking over the growing bulge again, he started to press towards her more.

Bryony scooted back on the bed, breaking their lip lock, but he didn’t let up the kissing. Instead, he moved his lips down to her now exposed neck and kissed at it softly as they moved together to get better positioned. Mycroft was surprised at how arousing it was when she moaned softly. The light sound hit his ears as he kissed along her throat, feeling her racing pulse under his lips, and he felt the tightness in his trousers grow. It was like an accomplishment. To get a girl as icy as Bryony to moan like that. He wondered if she would moan even more once they got to it. Would it be just throaty moans or would she cry out? Would her stony face crack a little in pleasure? Mycroft knew better than to get ahead of himself.

Respecting her request to remain clothed, Mycroft refrained from trying to unbutton her shirt, but one of his hands did wander up to cup her breast. Her own hands were working to get his belt undone. He gripped the heaviness of her breast gently through her shirt and bra, just to see how it felt. It felt alright, but he was eager to move on. They couldn’t spend too long fooling around. His mother was making him endure another family dinner tonight. She planned them for every night he would be home. Apparently they had ‘take advantage’ of their time together. Though right now was not the best time to be thinking of his mother.

For now, he had to refocus on Bryony. He pushed his hands up the sides of her thighs and when he got to her hips, he realized she wasn’t wearing any under garments. Perhaps he had over estimated how nervous she seemed. Maybe her nether parts were just a little cold till they got going and warmed up. She certainly felt warm enough under her skirt now. Not needing to deal with her clothing, he sat up a little, breaking their kissing completely, and started to finish the work she’d started on his belt.

“Condom?” he asked as he worked his pants open. He would do his best to keep himself out of her line of sight. If she wasn’t comfortable being naked, then she likely didn’t want to see between his legs.

Face flushed a little, she looked over to the side, “On the nightstand,” reaching over, he grabbed the small package and tore it open. It was a bit rude to do in front of her, but Mycroft held the latex disk up to the light a little, “What’re you doing?”

“Just checking it.”

Her flushed face went stony again, “What? You think I would do something to it?”

“I barely know you. Would you have trusted a condom if I brought it with me?” Bryony’s momentary silence was all the answer he needed, “Okay then,” with no comments from her, he fixed the condom over himself and kneeled back over her, “You are sure about this?” he was giving her a verbal chance to stop and just furthering her consent.

“Yes,” she adjusted herself on the pillow, “Get on with it.”

It was hard not to roll his eyes a little, “You could try to sound a little enthusiastic about this. It was your idea.”

The look on her face was not what he was expecting. It softened a little and she put her arms up around her head, “Take me,” her voice was light and warm. He was finding it hard to decide if she was a good actor or if she really meant it. Mycroft wasn’t about to admit that he found her interesting, “Please.”

Leaning over, he kissed her again, one hand snaking down between their bodies to grip around the base of his member. She spread her legs a bit more to let him settle more comfortably between them. He found it more difficult than he had first imagined it to be and had to sit back up to get proper positioning, “Tell me if I need to stop,” between her legs was hot and a little damp. 

At first, he thought it might be too tight to work, but he reminded himself that the human body was designed for this. Bryony inhaled deep and he kept an eye on her face for signs of pain as he pushed forward. A small gasp escaped his lips as he finally felt himself slip inside. It was much tighter than he was expecting and he was the one to stop, rather than her asking him to. Mycroft had to regain his composure for a moment.

Feeling he was far enough in, he leaned back over and placed his hands on the bed under her arms. She wrapped her own arms around his neck as he slowly pushed inside. Her body tensed and she gasped softly in his ear till he felt himself seated as fully as possible. They both stayed there, silently, for several minutes. He had his head resting on her shoulder and her fingers were buried in his hair. They both just breathed softly. Even if they decided to stop now, it was done. She had accomplished what it was she had wanted and everything else was just for show.

“You can...you can move,” she said finally said softly.

He nodded and slowly sat up before drawing his hips back. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut tight. The expression on her face was a pleasing one to see. Her body was responding nicely to him and he was finding it, overall, to be pleasant. As he pulled back, her body seemed to tighten a little. As if it were attempting to keep him in. A natural function, he assumed. After all, most animals didn’t thrust the whole time the way humans did. They did so to plant themselves in an immovable spot to release their genetic material. It made sense that since humans didn’t biologically have any kind of anchoring to their reproductive organs, that her body might naturally try to tighten to keep him from pulling out. It made for a nice tugging feeling that was made all the more better as he thrust back in.

After a few moments, they set up a small rhythm. As he thrust down, she would push her hips upwards to meet his. Her fingers on his shoulders, gripping tight. The bed frame squeaked a bit as he quickened the pace. Eyes shut tight, she moaned softly and squirmed under him. Her knees were pulled up and pressed against his hips. His mind was completely focused on the physical sensation. It was much better than the few times he had explored his own body. It was more relaxing than he had expected it to be.

The ending was mildly disappointing. Not because he felt that he should have been able to last longer, but because it had been more pleasant than anticipated. Bryony allowed him to finish deep inside of her, likely because of the condom. It was nice to feel his body throbbing inside of hers and he thrust a few more, short, times before pulling out completely.

It was then he realized he’d started sweating a little. It had been more physical activity than he’d realized. Her face was flushed and dotted a bit too. Mycroft stayed kneeled over her, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off her cheek. Without thinking, he leaned over to kiss her, but she rebuffed him this time. She turned her head and shifted her weight to get him to climb off, “You can leave now.”

Mycroft remembered her request the day before. He was to leave immediately and not contact her again, “Right,” standing, he looked around a little, “Would it be alright if I clean up a little before going? I do need to dispose of this…” he was commenting about the condom.

“I suppose. Bathroom is through that door,” she pointed across the room as she sat up and straightened her skirt out before going for her blazer, “Be quick and show yourself out.”

Like the day before, she started to leave without any kind of a polite word, but she stopped at the door, “Thank you, Holmes,” but she left too quick for him to even consider any kind of a response.

Making his way into the bathroom, he discarded the condom before turning on the tap and waiting for the water to warm up as he looked in the mirror. His face looked different and it took him a minute to realize why. He was relaxed. When was the last time he had felt and looked relaxed? It had been a few years. Mycroft missed the days before he and his siblings were introduced to other children. Things had been simpler.

After a moment, he dipped his hands into what should have been a stream of warm water, but found it still ice cold. Was anything in this house warm? Well, between her thighs had been warm, but he didn’t think that counted. Her voice had been warm once they got going, but again, he didn’t think that counted. After all, once they were finished, the iciness returned as she refused his final kiss and told him to leave.

Shaking his head, he washed his hands and face quick before slipping his coat on and finding his way out of the house. He saw no reason to seek Bryony out in the house to give his goodbyes. She didn’t seem to need that sort of thing. If she didn’t need it, then neither did he.


	4. Chapter 4

Chilly winter passed and wet spring came. School was in session again and things went back to as normal as they ever were. Even at school, he was never really free of his responsibilities. Uncle Rudy was a constant thorn in his side. Always bringing up the past and the future. Weekly, private, meetings even during the school year about the state of his sister was draining. It wasn’t as if school work was all that difficult, but adding it to his other stresses always did a number on him.

He had planned to ignore his mother’s guilting words to come home for the spring holidays, but an forceful word from his Uncle demanded he go. He wasn’t to leave his family alone for holidays. Forever and ever, Mycroft had to be there and when the time came, he had to care for them all by whatever means necessary.

That was how he came to be sitting at the kitchen table with his mother preparing the dinner for the next night. A large dinner that could feed a family of five, but would only be feeding four. He gave up attempting to help her learn how to cut down the portion sizes. The woman would forever prepare food for a child that no longer existed. He learned it was better to just let her do it. She would wrap the food up at the end of the dinner and someone else would eat it the next day. His mother was a mathematical genius. There was a time when she could make meals so proportionally correct that ‘leftovers’ was simply not a thing in their house. These days, there was always something extra in the fridge.

“I’m not frosting that cake, Mother,” he snipped as she set it down in front of him. If he started frosting it, he would start thinking about eating it, and tonight he would sneak into the kitchen and devour it all if he could get away with it, “Make Sherlock do it.”

“Oh, Myc…” she started, but he tuned her ramblings out. Nothing she said next really mattered. Something about Sherlock. Something about cake. Something about the frosting going bad if it wasn’t whipped right. He didn’t really care.

Without saying anything, he got up from the table and started towards the living room. He stopped as a familiar figure passed by the window. It was Bryony Ward. She was walking down the sidewalk carrying a small box. It had been two days since school had released for the holidays, but she was still wearing the same tights, skirt, sweater, and blazer. Different from school colors, yet in the same style. Did she own anything different?

It wasn’t too surprising that he hadn’t thought about her or what they had done. It wasn’t as if his brain was given the downtime to think of things that only concerned himself. Seeing a glimpse of her as she rounded the street corner and disappeared, all he could think about was how nice it had felt. How soft the mattress was under his hands and knees. How tightly clenched around him it was. That relaxing feeling as he just enjoyed the feel of lips against his own and fingers in his hair. It wasn’t specifically her he thought about, but more the sensation of it all. How stress free it had made him feel for just a few minutes.

“Myc…” he heard his mother calling for him.

“I’m going out,” he snapped as he grabbed his coat and rushed out the door. He was sure his mother would be in shock long enough to not see where he was going to send his brother after him. 

Jogging, something he loathed to do, he rounded the corner and saw Bryony not far ahead. She appeared to be heading home. Rather than shouting for her and risking other people noticing, he just continued his quick pace till he was a few feet away, “Ward,” he called out, a little breathlessly. How he hated the activity. The look on her face as she turned on her heels to see him was one of someone seeing a stranger say their name. As if she didn’t know him at all. He supposed that made sense. She had told him not to contact her again, “I was wondering if I could have a word with you?”

Her face tensed a bit and her brows furrowed, “No.”

Mycroft wasn’t sure why he expected a different response. His eyes went to the box in her hands. It was hard not to focus on it. It was a metal box and it was dirty. Not the only thing dirty though. Her hands were coated in dirt and under her fingernails was caked with it. Bryony had been digging. With her hands. The box was rather large in size, her arms barely fit around it, “I really would like to discuss something with you.”

Her eyes narrowed and she gripped the box tighter before she looked around. They were alone for the moment, “You have one minute.”

One minute to get his thoughts and request out in a logical manner. Mycroft took a breath before starting, “I have no interest in you as a person and, to be honest, I’ve not thought about you or what we did. Not till I saw you just a moment ago. Even then, I didn’t think of you. Just about what we did. I have a stressful life and what we did was...relaxing. I was thinking we could discuss further arrangements,” he still had fifteen seconds if his internal clock was correct, “Provided you found our session together pleasurable as well.”

Bryony was quiet, her eyes on the top of the box. He got his answer as to her finding it pleasurable from her silence. If she hadn’t, she would have said so immediately. Mycroft wondered if she had put it all from her mind as he had done or if she had thought on it during the last few months, “Tomorrow. One O’Clock, same as last time. Same conditions,” minus the no contact, he assumed, since he had already broken that once.

The only issue he had was that it was Easter tomorrow. Mother would make them all dress nice for church, despite none of them being highly religious. That would last till noon. He’d only have an hour to convince his mother that he would be back in time for supper and that she didn’t need him home all day, “The day after,” it was too much to do in such a short time frame. His mother was just the tip of the iceberg. 

Bryony didn’t budge though. She shook her head, “Tomorrow or not at all.”

He tensed for a moment. Tempted to push once more for the day after. The look on her face told him not to. If he did, she would say no all together even for tomorrow, “Very well.”

With a short nod, she turned away and started to walk off again. It was only once she was a few feet away and he had decided to leave that he heard her again, “Holmes, I did...I did find it pleasurable. Just so you know.”

He gave her a nod back. He had assumed as much, but he remembered her saying that she didn’t like to assume things. Even though he already had the information, it was kind of nice to get confirmation of it. Like it was praise. He so rarely received praise and he rarely wanted it. But proof that he had been able to pleasure a woman was mentally satisfying. Her admittance seemed to mean a little more than just knowing it on his own.


	5. Chapter 5

Once more he was standing in her door and once again she was wearing her school type outfit, though lacking the tights. Mycroft wondered if she had prepared in advance again and left off her underwear too. If possible, her house felt colder than before. While it was a wet spring day, it was on the warmer side. To get it this cold in here, he imagined she had to turn the air on. He had read somewhere that cold air was better for the mind. Not that Mycroft placed much in things like that.

They were sitting on the edge of the guest bed, but this time they had things to discuss. The nature of their relationship had been changed when he chose to contact her yesterday, “Provided this goes as well as, or better than, our last; would you be open to regular…” he didn’t want to say a relationship and he didn’t want to say sex, “...dalliances?”

“I have thought about it,” she started, “and I feel it could be worth discussing. Given our schooling, it would be greatly limited.”

“I would prefer it that way. Only once during holidays.”

“What about summer break?” it was a good question. They certainly couldn’t be together too much. It needed to be a relief from stress, not something for him to look forward too often.

“Once every other week? We can switch off houses, if need be,” he had noticed her parents weren’t home again. Was having a young child in their old age too much for them and they preferred to just ignore her existence? There were times when he wished he were so lucky.

“Not necessary. We can continue on here. Mother and father spend the summer in the states,” they really did prefer to ignore their only child. This was their twilight years. A father who, on paper, maintained a job, but really only signed paperwork from home. A mother still living off family money well into her life. They didn’t want Bryony. There was something to be said about this reflecting in her personality. Her family didn’t want her and she didn’t want anyone.

“I suppose that works out then,” he had thought of a few other things he wanted to discuss over the night, “I was wondering if you would consider changing your mind on clothing,” not that he wanted to be nude in her cold household, even with a blanket over them, but he still had a few ideas.

“No,” her voice was firm, “Sweater off and no more. I would prefer if you removed no more than your shirt,” she didn’t seem to have an interest in seeing him below the waist and that seemed understandable and respectable.

“I’m not asking more to be removed. Just altered a bit. Perhaps unbuttoning your shirt,” she could keep it on, but Mycroft was interested in being able to feel a bit more skin.

Bryony sat quietly, eyes on her hands in her lap for a minute, “I’ll unbutton to below my chest, but not completely.”

That seemed a decent compromise, “I can agree to that. I also wanted to discuss positioning.”

“I’m not doing anything weird,” she snapped quickly.

“I wasn’t thinking of anything _weird_. Just to stave off boredom…” as if only two or three times in the summer and then only two or three times during the school year would leave them a chance to get bored with it, “...we simply switch who is on top and who is on bottom.”

“...I think I can manage that. Is that what you were wanting today?”

He hadn’t planned to go that route, but since she asked, “Yes.”

“Okay then. Should we get started?”

Even if he had more he wanted to say, it would have to wait till next time. It had taken a lot of work from last night up till an hour ago to convince his family that he needed to be away and that they didn’t need to know anything about it. They didn’t have the time to waste before he had to be home again, “Yes.”

Bryony seemed less hesitant this time. She initiated this time. Leaning in to kiss him and wrap her arms around his neck. They went from sitting to lying down more quickly. His weight against her body as he reached down to grip her hips. It took a little restraint to not press his tongue into her mouth. One more thing to see if they could come to a compromise regarding in the future. For now, he rocked his hips against hers to start rousing himself. She responded favorably by wrapping her legs around his waist. It felt nice already.

She pushed her hips up and he realized it wasn’t to press against his own. She pushed her weight against him till he rolled over on the bed, taking her with, to allow her the top position that he wanted her in. He watched as she sat up and brushed the hair behind her ears. Her fingers moved to the buttons on her shirt and he reached down to work his belt and pants open, “Is this what you wanted to see?”

His light, watery-grey eyes watched as she tugged the sides of her shirt open a little. Per her words before, she didn’t go any further than the button just under her bosom. Her bra was white and in a balconette style. It was very flattering to her form. He was sure in a few years her hips would balance out the heftiness of her breasts. It helped seeing her like this to make her seem more feminine, “May I touch?” they had agreed to light petting the last time, but the lack of her shirt felt more like heavy petting that he needed permission for.

“I suppose. Not too much and don’t try to take off my bra.”

“I won’t,” he licked his cold lips a little as he slid his hands up her torso and to cup her breasts. She rocked her hips a bit against his as he groped her lightly. Her eyes were closed and she bit her lower lip as he felt her nipples hardening under his fingers. Feeling himself roused enough from the movement of her hips and the weight of her breasts in his hands, he released one hand so he could grope around the nightstand till he found the condom.

Her fingers worked at his belt and zipper, but she didn’t pull his pants down. Instead, she raised her hips enough for him to inch his trousers down a bit and free himself from his underwear. She seemed to take care in not looking down at it as he worked the condom on, “Lower yourself down,” he instructed as he gripped the based with one hand and tried to guide her hips with the other.

His eyes slid shut as he felt her moving down his length. It felt like a smoother transition this time. Possibly because she was in control of how fast it went. She gasped softly as she seated herself against his lap. There were a few things he noticed from his new position. The first was that he was deeper inside of her than he had been before. The angle was new and it felt tighter. The second was that she kept her arms closer together. As if she wanted to cover her chest from his sight. As confident a girl as she had shown herself to be, she was still a teenage girl who was self conscious about somethings.

Looking down her body as she started rocking her hips, he wished she would take off the skirt. He was curious to see himself disappearing inside of her. Even without that, he was enjoying the position. Especially as she started to work up a pace for herself. As she placed her hands on his chest and started working herself a little faster along his length, he realized she was going much quicker than he had when he was on top. Perhaps he had gone too easy, but he supposed that was natural considering it had been their first time.

Whenever she would seat her hips back down against his, he noticed she didn’t just raise back up. Instead she would roll her hips, grinding their bodies together a little. He liked the way it felt and she obviously did too. He kept one hand on her hip while the other reached up to touch her breast again. Gripping it lightly in his fingers. Enjoying the way the soft flesh molded to his fingers. 

Mycroft found it easy to forget about the time as they rocked their bodies against each other. He wasn’t sure how long into it they were, but she stopped suddenly. Her body tensed and he groaned at the feeling of her body convulsing around him. Her finger clenched his shirt and she shivered a little. It felt wonderful, even if it only lasted a moment. Mycroft felt her arms buckle a little and he rolled to put her back on the bottle. It changed the intensity of the deepness, but she seemed happy to give in for the time being. 

He thrust into her a little more vigorously than he had the first time. Bryony moaned and shivered as he got himself to his own completion. Like the last time, he stayed there for a moment, giving a few short thrusts to finish off. Her body was still shivering a little. It didn’t take much for Mycroft to realize she had orgasmed. Perhaps not the biggest of ones, but in some minor way she had. He felt pleased with himself knowing that he had assisted in bringing that to her.

Not wanting to make the same mistake twice, he didn’t try to kiss her this time. Instead, he slowly pulled himself free and started towards the bathroom, “I’ll show myself out.”

“Please do. We’ll discuss things in more detail at the beginning of summer.”

Mycroft nodded lightly as he watched her button her shirt up before walking from the room. He made his way into the small bathroom and discarded of the condom same as last time. He didn’t worry about waiting for the tap to warm and instead just washed up with the icy water.

As he was leaving, he heard her in the kitchen. It was tempting to go say something to her. It seemed the proper thing to do, but he really had nothing to say to her right now. It felt more like an obligation to manners to want to say something to her. A goodbye or a thank you of sorts. Mycroft knew she didn’t want that though. 

Walking past the entrance to the living room, he saw the metal box sitting on the floor in front of one of the hallway doors. Naturally, he felt curious. The few interactions he had with Bryony told him that she liked things clean and orderly. Seeing her hands, sleeves, shoes, and tights covered in dirt the day before seemed out of place. He hadn’t questioned it, because it wasn’t his business and he had enough to deal with as it was, but it was curious.

Walking over to it, he leaned down to inspect the box. It was a thin, metal box. There was a lock on the top that must have been hidden against her chest the day before. It wasn’t dirty anymore. There was, however, a bit of dirt on the floor next to it and in front of the door. Bryony hadn’t finished cleaning yet. He studied the door for a moment, it had a lock added to it recently. An addition to the handle lock for extra security. Based on the dimensions of the house that he knew of, there wasn’t a room on the other side of it. That meant it was either a very small closet or it was stairs leading down to a basement.

As tempted as he was to study it a little more, he didn’t want to be caught snooping around her house. He had no reason to. Learning more about Bryony was the last thing he wanted. His goal was for their relationship to be strictly physical. Other than knowing that grinding against her hips was one way to help her along to an orgasm, he assumed it must have touched or tugged the skin around her clitoris, he had nothing more he wanted to learn about her.

Brushing the dirt from his fingers, he let himself out and headed home for Easter supper. Feeling more relaxed than he had since the last time they were together. It would make dinner with his family much more tolerable.


	6. Chapter 6

Bryony panted loudly as she bounced against his lap. One arm around her waist and the other snaked up her torso so he could cup one of her breasts. Her back was pressed up against his chest. He was sitting up against the headboard of the guest bed with her in his lap facing away from him. It had become one of their more preferred positions over the summer. It was intimate, without being too personal. Neither of them had to look the other in the face, but it wasn’t degrading as her being on her hands and knees or bent over the edge of the bed.

What was only supposed to be a stress relieving session once every other week very quickly turned into a weekly thing and then a twice a week thing. It had been his request to go weekly as stress in his household got to him more easily knowing he had a way to destress now. Bryony had agreed to alter their terms. But moving to twice a week had been her idea. She didn’t give a reason, just requested it and he was more than willing to grant her request.

In a week, he would be back at school and it wouldn’t be till winter holidays that he got a chance to do this again. This was their last session together. Mycroft knew that it was wrong how much he was putting into their little meetups, but he couldn’t help it. It was a physically exhausting, but utterly relaxing thing they did together. They still didn’t talk and he always cleaned up and left immediately. Other than increasing the amount of times they did it, things hadn’t changed.

“Mycroft!” she moaned loudly as she came. That had changed. They introduced the use of their names last week. Well, he was allowed to use her name, but he hadn’t yet. She only used his when she orgasmed. He found it pleasant to hear his name as he helped bring her to completion. 

Her body squeezed him tightly and he held her hips down against his while she rode out her orgasm. Her head leaned back against his shoulder and he kissed at her sweaty neck. They still kept clothed for the most part. She was willing to unbutton her shirt completely and even remove her bra, but her shirt never came off. She also wouldn’t take off her skirt. He occasionally went without a shirt or pants, but never both at the same time. Right now, he was lacking a shirt and she was without a bra. It felt nice having her shirt stick to his sweat coated chest and being able to fondle her nipple as she came.

Bryony leaned forward and he went with her. She stretched out on the bed under him and he used a hand to help pull her backside up enough that he could continue thrusting deep into her. He leaned up on one hand and kept the other on her hip as he took her to his finish. His member throbbing hard inside of her as he ground his hips against her backside the way she liked. Whether they were face to face or like this, she liked it when he did that.

Sitting up, he took a deep breath before reaching for the pack of cigarettes he had put on the nightstand. He lit one and passed it to her as she sat up and held her shirt together with one hand before lighting one for himself. This was as close as they got to ‘aftercare’. Holding it between his lips, he fixed his pants after pulling the condom free. By the time he got back from the bathroom, she had already put her bra on and was buttoning her shirt back up. Her cigarette half smoked, resting in the ashtray. She picked it back up as he walked over to put his own shirt on and took a long drag as he set his down. 

“Listen, I know we usually do the whole ‘show yourself out’ thing,” he was surprised when she started to talk and clenched the fag in his teeth as he started to put his shoes on, “I just wanted you to know that I appreciated all of this. I’ve been under a lot of stress this year and this has helped,” not that he had ever questioned her reasoning for wanting all of what they did. He assumed she had her own family issues. Even with her family’s negligence over her, she didn’t seem to be lacking in tension whenever he saw her, “I...I look forward to us meeting up over the winter.”

Mycroft knew they shouldn’t say things like that. It was too close to being personal and that’s what they needed to avoid, but he felt the same way. It was going to be a long few months till winter break and as he closed in on his final year of school, he knew what he was in for. Uncle Rudy had been in contact with him a lot this summer. The man wasn’t equipped to handle things for so long. It was going to be up to him to take over soon. Even while attending University. It was going to amplify his stress by a hundred. If all he could look forward to was a cheap, hour long dalliance with a girl he only knew the name of, then he would accept that.

“I look forward to it as well,” though once he began attending University, he did hope to find other women who were more logic minded like Bryony. The longer they kept this up, the more he feared it developing further. Adding more women to the equation would help to alleviate that. In fact, he had meant to bring that up sooner than now, but it seemed as good a time as any, “I do hope you come to find other men who can assist you in these matters though. I intend to seek out other women.”

“Oh, I do,” which was relieving to hear, “I was given early acceptance to the University College of London.”

That was a good school. He was pleased he had chosen to accept Bryony as his first partner. She had proved to be everything he hoped for. Unfeeling, logical, and quick to voice herself. It helped that she was also neat, tidy, and willing to compromise, “Oxford,” which was a better school when it came to rankings. Though he hadn’t gained early acceptance. Not that he was about to tell her that. He just knew that they wouldn’t reject him.

Finishing their cigarettes, they did something new. They left the room together. Without thinking, she seemed to lead him to the door, “I shall see you at winter break then. Please call ahead.”

“I will…” again, without a thought, he leaned in and kissed her. 

The action took them both by surprise. She broke the lip lock and looked down at her feet for a moment, “Please leave,” she said sternly before quickly marching back off down the hall.

Mycroft stood there at the door for a moment. It was an uneasy feeling at what he had just done. Perhaps the long break between now and winter was for the best. They had become extremely physical in a very short time. It was best to go cold turkey from each other for a few months and let the physical need go away.

His eyes moved quick to find something, anything, to distract himself before he left and he found the box again. At least once a week, he saw her walking down the sidewalk with it. He only ever saw her carrying it home, but never going wherever it was she came from. Always with dirt on her hands and shoes. If it wasn’t for his family stresses and the need to keep from knowing anything about her, he would have looked into it further. Right now, all he cared about was it distracting him from the fact that he had just kissed her goodbye.

As always, the house was extremely cold, clean, and dark; yet the floor around the box was dirty and there was another new lock on the door. What was Bryony Ward doing every week digging in the dirt, with a metal box, and a locked basement door? 

No. This was the wrong thing to focus on. He had to get out. Needed to get home and let the stress of family life overtake him till school started.


	7. Chapter 7

Kindness and love.

That’s why he was doing this. He could spend his time injecting himself with whatever drugs were on the street the way some did. Or he could just relent to a simple life like his parents did. But someone had to be the adult. Someone had to take care of the messy details. The one his brother forgot about and the ones his parents were lied to about. Uncle Rudy had tried to handle it all these years, but the man was getting old.

Wake at five, run for an hour, eat breakfast till fifteen past six, and be at first class by half past six. At lunch, he would review the bank statements Uncle Rudy had transferred to him. The ones that syphoned off the tiniest portions of money from his family account to pay for the necessary housing for his sister. For a time, till the account had built up enough, Uncle Rudy had paid for it himself. He was done with it now. Looking at it would make him lose his appetite and he would skip lunch. Be at afternoon classes till five. Attend the meetings Uncle Rudy set up for him with the various government officials who were to ‘groom’ him for special assignment one day. Be on the train by seven to make the nearly two hour commute to London. Spend half an hour sitting on a bench till Bryony showed up after her last class. Dinner together, where they would discuss nothing of their days and were merely just eating for energy they were about to expend. An hour of dalliances and then back on the train for the two hour commute back to Oxford. Be back at his room by nearly one in the morning and sleep till five.

This was four out of seven days of his week.

He never had a day with no classes or without meetings with Uncle Rudy’s people, but sometimes the classes weren’t as long and sometimes Bryony would come to him. They were also times when he decided to stay in Oxford and find a different bedmate or no bedmate at all. None of the other women were quite as like minded as Bryony was. It was the reason he made time to go see her and to make time for her to see him. One of the other girls had spent a week crying outside his door because he told her he wasn’t interested in sleeping with her a second time. She claimed that he was ‘special’ and that she loved him. Others seemed close to understanding what it was he wanted, but many of them were convinced they could ‘change’ his mind about a relationship. Many of them were from proper families like himself and Bryony, so they weren’t in the habit of accepting a one night stand.

This first year had been beyond stress inducing. Even with Bryony as a constant source of relief, he still found it hard to cope. This was to be his life. Forever more. Being the stone in his family. Having to keep the darkest of secrets for the Holmes family. It was more than he could bare sometimes. 

He would be home on break for a few weeks before the next semester started and there was no relief from the stress at home. If anything, it was worse. He had to shift around his family in order to make his meetings with Uncle Rudy. He had to keep the bank statements locked away and eventually at the Ward home for safe keeping. She promised not to try to figure out what it was and he had no reason not to believe her. There was also keeping his brother out of trouble. The younger male was entering puberty and the stress of being like himself and repressing certain memories was starting to get to him. Sherlock was cracking and he had to continually pick up the pieces.

Right now, in the guest bed at the Ward house, he didn’t have to think about any of those things. He didn’t have to worry about the kindness and love he was giving to his family without their knowing. He could grip onto the headboard of the cold guest room bed and thrust into her while she moaned for him. The stress of the day relaxed away as he came and she squirmed below him. More than two years, almost three, into this little relationship they had built and all he knew about Bryony was how to make her orgasm. That’s all she wanted him to know and it’s all he wanted to know. The both did their jobs at satisfying each other and it seemed to be all they needed.

Groaning with satisfaction, he fell back on the bed next to her. He huddled under the quilt against the chill of the room. Over the past school year, they had become comfortable enough to strip nude at times. As much as his mind pestered him to probe into it, he forced it to shut down as he saw the belt scars on her lower back. Knowing she had no siblings, aunts, or uncles; he could assume they were from a parent in her younger years before they learned to just ignore her. Mycroft refused to let his mind wander about it. He couldn’t. It was too personal and he didn’t want to know.

She held the blanket to her chest as she passed him a lit cigarette. This was the most they ever stayed over with each other. To smoke and clean up. During which they only discussed changes to their future meetings and what they might do at that time. They liked to be prepared. Rarely did one of them come up with something different to do on the spot. 

“What day is good for you?” he asked as he took a drag, “I can’t do Thursday.”

“How about Wednesday?” at school, they had more chances to see each other. At home, they were back to once or twice a week as they could manage it. She had a clearer schedule than he did, with her parents summering in France this year, but even she seemed to have commitments to tend to.

“I can manage that, so long as it’s earlier in the day.”

“No earlier than seven.”

He nodded in agreement before putting his cigarette out and moving to discard of the condom and clean up to get dressed. He was washing his face with the ice cold water and he could hear her moving around to get her clothing on when a loud knocking echoed through the house. He peered out of the bathroom with a confused look on his face to see her equally confused face. In all his visits here, never once had the phone rang or anyone knocked on the front door. 

“Does anyone know you’re here?” she asked quietly, as if she was worried her words would reach down to whoever was at the door.

“No,” he’d never told her what lies he used to come here, but lately he blamed it on school. Stating that even during breaks between semesters he still had things to tend to. His parents never questioned school related things.

Wrapping the blanket around herself, she moved to the window and pulled the curtain aside just enough to peek out, “Oh lord…”

“Who is it?” he noticed he’d lowered his voice too. It was a silly thing to do, but it just seemed right to do.

“It’s your brother.”

She had no reason to lie, but Mycroft wouldn’t believe that till he saw it for himself. He rushed over, hopping a little as he tugged his pants up over his hips, “There’s no reason…” he peered out and there he was. Sherlock’s dark, curly haired head was at the front door. He wasn’t alone either. The tall, wide shouldered frame of his Uncle Rudy was behind the younger Holmes boy. Clad in a mens coat, but the hem of a summer dress was under it, “And him…”

“Who is that?”

“My uncle.”

“You have an uncle?” she question.

Mycroft rolled his eyes a little as he yanked the curtain shut, “Yes, not that it’s any of your business,” he ignored her little huff. It was against their rules to ask about family. She only knew Sherlock because she had seen him before. She should expected his sharp comment.

There was another knock. A louder one as they dressed quickly, “Make them go away. I don’t want them in my house.”

“Not entirely in my control,” he admitted as they smoothed out their clothes and hair while walking down the hallway. Bryony broke off from him to dart into the living room. She grabbed a lap blanket from the couch and tossed over the metal box that forever sat in front of the basement door. He watched her curiously for a minute as she pulled a set of keys off the bookshelf and started quickly unlocking the various locks that had been added to the door over the past two years. She tossed them, not caring about the noise they made, behind the shelf, “What are you doing?” he hissed lowly as another knock came.

“Shut up, just answer the door,” she had stated she didn’t want them inside, but she seemed preparing the door to look less strange should they enter.

“You answer it. It’s your bloody house,” he snapped back.

“Fine. Move,” she shoved her hands into his chest and he stumbled back against the hallway wall a little. They had never really been short with each other, but this apparent invasion of privacy on her house seemed to be rather upsetting to her. Her face was tight, her brows furrowed, and she tripped over her feet a little as she stumbled into the door. She yanked it open quick and without thinking, he pressed himself back against the wall to hide himself, “What do you want?” she snapped at his brother and Uncle. Inwardly, he smiled a little. So few got short with those in his family. It was almost as satisfying as their sex to hear it.

“Go on home, Sherlock,” he heard his Uncle’s voice.

“Was I right? Is he here?” so his brother had sniffed him out. He supposed his sibling was going to run home and tell their mother that Mycroft was alone with a girl. This was the end of their dalliances.

“Yes. Now go home,” his Uncle ordered again. He heard the shoe steps going down the walkway and disappearing from hearing range.

“If you’re going to knock on my door, the least you can do is answer my question. What do you want?” there was that inward smile again as she laid into Uncle Rudy.

“Bryony Ward, yes?”

“Maybe…”

“I saw your picture on your father’s desk when he still worked in the bank office. I was sorry to hear that he moved to the home office. The quality of his work certainly changed. It got better.”

Mycroft didn’t understand what this was about and Bryony didn’t seem to either, “What do you want?”

“I’m just trying to see my nephew. We have something of importance to discuss. If you could please send him out. Clothed, preferably.”

“I don’t know what Sherlock told you, but Mycroft isn’t here,” there were few who could lie to himself and his Uncle. He wasn’t sure Bryony was up to that task, but she was certainly up to trying.

He heard the deep chuckling laughter he was familiar with, “You’re a bright girl, Miss. Ward, but you’re not about to lie to me. It doesn’t take a scientist to see what you two have been doing. My nephew isn’t one for romance, but he certainly understands the uses of sex and has been willing to take a train two hours there and back to get it,” how long had his Uncle known he was doing this? At least since some point in the school year, “You’re on a first name basis with him and comfortable enough to use his brother’s name. I figure this has been going on...two and half years. Given the state of your hair, I assume I caught you two at the end of it today.”

Mycroft heard her inhale sharply, “Get off my property.”

“Not your property, little girl. Your _parent’s_ property. Now send my nephew out before I get angry.”

“Don’t you threaten me, you cross dressing old man,” she growled. He’d never heard her get like that before, but something about Uncle Rudy was upsetting her. He remembered one time when he tried to go in the kitchen to get a drink. It was the closest to today that she had ever raised her voice to him.

Mycroft went to stop her, but she tried to slam the door in Rudy’s face. The dress wearing man shot his cane out and wedged it in the door, “Bryony, stop it,” he said from behind her, but it was too late. The larger, older man put his weight into the door and she gasped as it flung back open and threw her against the wall, “Rudy, stop it!”

“Get your shoes on, Mycroft, and let’s go.”

She got back to her feet slowly, her eyes fixed on Rudy. She looked furious, “If you ever come to my house again…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence. Rudy finished it for her, “What? You’ll kill me?” it was a surprising choice of words. One that made all the color in her face drain and her eyes go wide. Uncle Rudy could have gone for arrested. Why go straight to the murdering aspect of it?

Not wanting to further the fight, he slipped his shoes on quick and started out the door. He didn’t say anything to Bryony and she confirmed that it was a good idea not to say anything as she slammed the door fast enough that it nearly hit the back of his head.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he finally asked as his Uncle started with him down the walkway, “Better be something important, since it couldn’t wait till I got home.”

“Not really important. At least it wasn’t till Sherlock tracked you here.”

He narrowed his grey eyes at the taller man, “What I do in my personal time is no one’s business.”

“You have no personal time, Nephew, and you’ll certainly have no more with Bryony Ward. You’re getting too close with her and it’s not safe.”

“Too close? I’ve been having sex with her for two and half years and I don’t even know the color of her eyes,” he tried not to look in the eyes of the women he was having sex with. Eye contact was personal.

“You rely on her for stress relief. Find other women.”

“I have other women,” he sneered a little.

“Then stop seeing her and see them more.”

Mycroft felt a headache coming on. Stop seeing Bryony so that he could see other women more. It didn’t make sense, “Don’t tell me who I can sleep with.”

“It’s a matter of safety. You’ll stop seeing her and that’s final. Kindness and love, Mycroft. Kindness and love.”

He didn’t say anything more. Just pursed his lips together tight. Kindness and love. That’s why they lied to his parents. That’s why Sherlock believed they had a pet dog. That’s why he was working so hard. Kindness and love to his family. Uncle Rudy was saying it as an end to the conversation. There was something Rudy knew that he hadn’t figured out in two and a half years and Rudy didn’t want him finding it out.

Something behind a locked door and hidden in a dirty, metal box.


	8. Chapter 8

_M,_

_I’m sorry I have to do this, but I have given you over a year to correct this behavior. Since you’ve decided to ignore my orders I have no choice but to correct it for you. Your family depends on you and you cannot be caught in this situation. In your mind, you’ve always known something is wrong with what you’re doing. You’ve allowed yourself to care. If you take nothing else from this, remember that caring is not an advantage._

_You know very well the color of her eyes._

_-R ___

__It was technically their fourth anniversary, if one were to count what they did as a relationship. They didn’t celebrate with gifts to each other or anything of that nature. It just so happened that they decided to get together on that specific day that year. She was supposed to meet him at the hotel that afternoon. When she didn’t show up on time, he waited a few hours before giving up and heading back home. Neither of them had ever missed a meet up._ _

__When he returned home that evening, he realized why._ _

__Over the next few months, the whole town was swarmed with police and reporters._ _

__There were some small technicalities that could have got her off, but it was the fact that the evidence was still in her house that damned her. For years, Bryony had been slowly cutting away pieces of the bodies in her basement and burying them in different locations around the woods behind the town. Different locations, different depths, and even further mutilating some of them by burning them. Doing it slowly and in areas where scavengers could pick at them slowly too. But she hadn’t finished. The heads were still in the basement. She hadn’t yet disposed of them or the box she used to carry the parts around in._ _

__Mycroft watched from down the street, along with the rest of the town population, as the Ward house was torn apart in the investigation. The bodies were her parents, he heard people saying. They were saying that the teams had been digging up body pieces all afternoon from the forest. That someone had called in a ‘tip’ about no one having seen the Ward’s in some time. As he tried to move closer, he was halted by the sight of his Uncle next to the car they were shoving Bryony into._ _

__It was one of the few times he had ever seen his Uncle in mens clothing. The somber, dark colors of his Uncle’s suit told him that this was not only his doing, but that he felt sorry for having to do it._ _

__The older man started towards him as he stood in the middle of the street, “It’s time to go home, Mycroft. We’ll talk there.”_ _

__He couldn’t take his eyes off Bryony’s form in through the window of the car, “How strange that someone so suddenly discover all of this happening so soon after your letter.”_ _

__“This isn’t the place. Let’s go home.”_ _

__“Green. Her eyes are green. With brown flecks and a thin grey ring around the pupil,” as much as he wanted to deny knowing so much about her eyes, he couldn’t right now. His mind dragged up their first time together. How he’d looked in her eyes, “Is that what you want to hear? Make this go away. I won’t see her again,” his Uncle had made his point. People would suffer for his insubordination._ _

__He shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, his eyes unblinking on the car window, “It’s too late for that, Mycroft. You have to learn to accept the consequences of your actions. Just as Eurus has to. Go home. We’ll talk there.”_ _

__“They ignored her unless they were hitting her.”_ _

__“Now isn’t the time. We’ll talk at home, Mycroft. Go.”_ _

__“No. We’ll talk here,” he gave the order this time._ _

__Rudy narrowed his eyes, but Mycroft wouldn’t give, “Very well. She killed them both while they slept. She was fifteen at the time. She realized she needed money to live on, that her mother’s family money was all but spent. At that time, she wrote a request to her father’s employment to have his work moved to a home office where she proceeded to forge his work. For the past few years she has slowly moved her father into position of supervisor to lighten her workload for schooling. Doling out tasks to newer employees while maintaining his position. She has posed as an unseen supervisor accountant for five years. All the while, hacking away at the corpses of her parents and letting you roll around in her bed. Well, the guest bed. That’s where they found your hair. I had them dispose of it. Our family can’t be associated with this.”_ _

__Mycroft felt angry. Not just at Rudy and Bryony, but at himself. He’d always known something was wrong. Part of him could put everything together now that he thought clearly about it. He should have known. There was never a car or car tracks. No one ever saw her parents. They were always away. The basement door. The box. The dirt. The coldness of the house. The scars on her back. The demand for privacy. How defensive she was over her home. When the color would drain from her face at the mention of parents, even those that weren’t her own._ _

__There were more, but he couldn’t bring himself to keep thinking about them. He was the sane one. The one that knew when and how to turn off his brain._ _

__“What’s going to happen to her?”_ _

__“That depends on you.”_ _

__Here it was. The deal. He’d already made one before. A promise to take care of his family at all costs, “What do you want?”_ _

__“Behave yourself. Take care of your brother and sister with all the love and kindness in your heart. Put them above others. In return, she’ll be treated above what she deserves for her crimes and live comfortably.”_ _

__Mycroft knew what that meant. Another padded room. Another white psychiatric ward. One more listed as criminally insane that he knew didn’t deserve to be. Her crimes were bad, but he knew she was conscious of it all. Prison is where she deserved to be. He couldn’t do that to her though, “Alright. You get your way, Uncle,” at least for the time being._ _

__“I truly am sorry I had to do this. I would have turned a blind eye to what she did. I have better things to concern myself with than an abused girl who murdered her parents, but you forced my hand.”_ _

__The human inside of him, the thing he tried so hard to push back at all his life, wanted to blame himself. That if he had just broke off their relationship, she wouldn’t be handcuffed in the back of a car right now. His mind reminded him that this wasn’t his fault though. She had started this before they met. She made the choice to do what she’d done. But it was hard to ignore that throbbing pain in his chest._ _

__Focus on the car window broken as he felt something pressing into his hand. Mycroft looked down and saw a small box. He looked at his Uncle curiously as he opened it to find a simple ring inside. The band width told him it was meant for a man and not a woman. The gold wasn’t too bright. It was very simple, “What’s this for?”_ _

__“I found it in the guest room. She said to give it to you. Four year anniversary gift.”_ _

__His eyes flicked back to the car. Bryony was looking at him now. Tears running down her cheeks. He’d never seen her look sad before. It wasn’t the same kind of sadness he’d seen in other people though. Bryony wasn’t sad or regretful over what she’d done. She was sad that she’d been caught. It was different from the look he had seen on his sister’s face. Bryony was capable of feeling something, if only sadness for being caught._ _

__Mycroft realized now just how right they were for each other._ _

__Who better for him than a woman who was smart enough to get away with double homicide for five years while systematically disposing of the body without raising any questions? Adding to that, she had managed to manipulate one of the largest banks in the country into accepting that not only was her work on par with her father’s, but better enough to warrant promotions and subordinates without ever asking for face to face meetings. All while finishing school and moving on to University and maintaining her sexual relationship with not only him, but at least two other men that he knew of through their very basic conversations. Meanwhile she had the humanity in her to realize that their relationship was different from those they carried on with other bedmates by gifting him a ring._ _

__Taking a deep breath, he dropped the ring box to the ground so he could slip it over his right ring finger. She smiled at him a little through the window. It was the same smile she gave him the night they broke one of their biggest rules. She slept the night over with him in his dorm room. It was too late for her to get the train and she fell asleep against his chest. It was the smile she gave him when they woke up the next morning before she coax him into the idea of morning sex over him going out running._ _

__“Mycroft…”_ _

__He ignored his Uncle’s voice as he turned and started walking home._ _

__This wasn’t going to be his last time seeing Bryony Ward._ _


	9. Chapter 9

Uncle Rudy had died from a heart attack a week ago. Normally he only came here the three times a year his uncle had allowed for him to, but he wanted to be the one to tell them. He’d gone to his sister first. Her reaction, or lack thereof, was not surprising to him. But he felt he owed the information to family first. While their uncle’s death hadn’t affected her, she did have a bit to say about his taking over fully for her care. He’d left that visit somewhat shaken, but went immediately to the next facility.

While his sister was under maximum security, Bryony had been moved to a more relaxed situation. Mycroft knew she didn’t deserve that kind of high level of security. She wasn’t completely heartless or completely logic minded like his sister. Bryony was more human. While she didn’t regret any of her actions, she did understand that her actions had been extreme and that there had been other options.

It had been nearly ten years since she was locked away and it always surprised him when he realized that this was the most stable relationship in his life. He supposed it was easy when he always knew where she would be and when they only saw each other so few times a year.

“A surprise visit? You’re getting soft in your middle age,” he smiled a little at her comment.

Bryony should have ended up in a state run facility. It had been his uncle’s doing that she been allowed to keep access to the Ward family estate and they had been chipping away at it to pay for her housing at a private location. This visit wasn’t just about letting her know about his uncle, but to discuss financial matters as well.

It would be useless to say that he didn’t use his position to get special favors. 

Rather than being confined to a supervised room with a little table to sit at, he was sitting on the edge of her bed. She had a room to herself. There was a small desk and a chair. The window had security bars on it, but it had a nice view. There was very little personalization, despite her being allowed to do it. Bryony had no need for personal things. Even her dorm room the times he’d visited it had been very bare. It was just her personality.

“Just had some things I needed to talk to you about.”

“Oh, is that all?” she climbed up behind him, sliding her hands over his shoulders and leaning in to kiss the side of his neck a little. Their visits weren’t just limited to discussing her family estate or bringing her things to work on to keep her mind busy. Mycroft had felt a little ashamed of himself the first time they had sex here. It felt wrong. He knew it wasn’t entirely ethical. The only way he managed it over the years was with rational thought. She simply lost that control for a brief moment in her youth. She wasn’t a conscious lacking psychopath. It made it easier to be intimate with her.

He set his hands atop her’s, stopping their mission to get his vest unbuttoned, “Today, yes. Just talk.”

They talked more seeing each other only three times a year for the past decade than they had seeing each other weekly or daily for their first four years. It was rarely personal talk though. He brought her newspapers and talked to her about the affairs of the country. He would bring her various math related files that she really shouldn’t have had access to. Bryony never questioned the things he brought in for her. She just worked on them and gave them back.

She slid out from behind him before climbing off the bed and heading for the desk where he’d laid out the files. She’d lost weight being here, but he had been right in knowing that her body would balance itself out. Her hips had rounded out, giving her more of an hourglass figure and making her less top heavy. Her thighs were a little thicker, but her waist was smaller and her arms were thinner. He supposed it was easy to keep a lower weight in a place like this. No matter how nice the facility was, the found was always bound to be awful. They were only just starting their thirties, but she had a few wisps of silvery grey showing in her brown hair. At least she still had all of her hair. His had started to recede already. 

He always hated seeing her in the stark white facility pants and shirt. They weren’t flattering in the least. Though he long suspected she did enjoy the uniformity of being able to wear the same thing day after day.

“What is it this time?” she asked as she settled down in the chair and he walked over to stand beside her.

“My uncle has passed away.”

“Oh...I…” she had long held resentment towards the other man. He had openly admitted to her that he had been the one to have her arrested. Mycroft had never told her that it was his fault Rudy had come at her so hard. That if he had just broken off their relationship, then she never would have been caught. It seemed useless to bring that up. It was only because of his continued involvement with her that Rudy had been willing to work with her to keep her out of a state facility and prison. If she found out the truth and decided to deny his visits, Rudy might have changed his mind, “...I can’t say I’m sad to hear that, but I’m sorry for your family’s lost.”

That was the answer he’d expected, “Harder for my parents than it is for me,” he could admit to that. Rudy had controlled every aspect of his life for the past ten years.

“Was that all you wanted to talk about?”

“I wish it was…” he leaned over and flipped open the file folder. 

Mycroft stood back silently as she looked over the papers inside. She was quiet, but he could see her face twisting in confusion the more she looked through it, “I don’t understand. These account numbers...they’re my family’s accounts.”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t make sense. Where is all of the money?”

“I’m sorry, Bryony, but it’s gone. Or rather, nearly gone.”

Her silence was very telling and equally uncomfortable as he watched her pick up a pencil and start working the math out herself, “Sell the house.”

“We did that four years ago.”

“Then where is the money for it?” her voice was firm, but he could hear the panic building behind it.

“It didn’t sell for much. Legally, the history of the house has to be disclosed. Even if it wasn’t, it’s hard to keep neighbors quiet. We had to sell it very cheaply.”

Her lips were pursed so tight, they nearly disappeared before she spoke again, “Mother had a family vacation home in Maine…”

“Gone. Again, a cheap sell due to the economy. Large homes are difficult to sell.”

“My trust?”

“Seized for court costs years ago, you knew that,” she was already out of options and dipping into ones she already knew were gone.

“What about my investments?”

“Cashed out. Many were starting to fail.”

“That’s impossible,” she stood fast and whipped around to stare him in the face. Her green eyes were filled with panic and fear, “I set those up myself.”

“Things have changed a lot in ten years. Good investments turn bad very quickly these days. You can’t learn everything or keep up with everything from newspapers anymore. The internet happened. Media isn’t what it used to be.”

“...” even during the trial and sentencing, he never saw crack. But she was cracking now. Her brows furrowed and her mouth fell into a depressive frown. She turned her eyes to the floor and he could tell she was trying to figure out what to say or do, “What’s...what’s going to happen when the money's gone?”

Mycroft had been preparing for this visit for several months. His uncle’s passing just gave him more of a reason to come, “There is a public facility, Rampton. It is listed as high security, but it’s really more of a middle ground. You, unfortunately, won’t have your own room and our visits would be supervised…” he could call in all the favors he wanted, but a public facility meant even he had to adhere to certain restrictions, “I wouldn’t be able to bring you files to work on anymore either,” much of what he let her see was confidential and he couldn’t risk that in a place like Rampton.

Bryony did something she’d never done before, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as she started sobbing. Mycroft never handled these situations well. A few of the women he’d been with over the years were prone to crying when they realized that he had been honest with them about not being interested in a relationship. But while he hadn’t been prepared for her to break down this way, it didn’t change his plans.

“There is another option…” one he’d offered before and she declined, but he felt in light of new circumstances, she might be more inclined to accept this time.

She leaned back to look up at him with tear eyes, his hands on her lower back, “W-what’s that?”

“I can get you a pardon.”

While there were still tears, her face hardened, “We’ve been through this before. I did something wrong and I have to suffer the consequences of it.”

Over the course of the trial, Mycroft learned the full extent of the abuse Bryony had gone through. It still didn’t excuse her actions, but it was enough to make him know that she did deserve prison and not to be in this hospital facility. Even still, he was willing to allow her to stay here and try to get her out, “Ten years is consequence enough, don’t you think?”

“What difference would it make? I didn’t finish school. I have no money. It’s public record what I did.”

Mycroft wasn’t about to offer to take care of her. Not only did he not want that responsibility or closeness, but he knew she wouldn’t accept it. She would subject herself to Rampton just to spite him. The biggest issue with Rampton was that it was public. She’d have to go to mandated therapy sessions. Eventually, someone would realize she didn’t belong there. That she had never belonged there. It was only a matter of time, “That’s what this is for…”

Pulling from her, he picked up his suitcase and pulled out a second file to hand to her, “What’s this…?”

“A new identity.”

“Mycroft…”

“Everything is in there. It’s an old fashion way of going about it, but it’s all set up for you. Bryony Ward gets a pardon and disappears. Moves out of the country, never to be heard from again. Anthea Kirk comes to work in my office and in six months is moved into position as the assistant I’m in much need of.”

“Mycroft...no…”

“Then disappear for real. Be pardoned and I will pay for you to leave the country. I can’t change public records, but as I said, newspapers aren’t looked into the way they once were. I’m sure there are plenty of employers that won’t look hard enough to find the article or the news clips. You’ll be able to scrape up some sort of a living. Either way, it’s a better option than being sent to Rampton.”

He watched as she stared at the file and sat down on the edge of the bed. The ceiling light caught the small ring on her right ring finger for a moment. He’d given it to her three years ago. It matched the one he wore. She’d asked him what it meant and he told her that it meant whatever she wanted it to mean. The long discussion afterwards about what women he was still sleeping with and how he spent what little free time he had was tiresome. She insisted that he continued seeing and bedding women that weren’t her. For a while, he had, but even the ones who understood the idea of a one night stand were still troublesome to find and deal with. It had been some time since he slept with a woman other than her. Not that he could tell her that.

“I need to think about this…”

He expected that, “You have enough to last you another year here,” that was the issue with the private facilities. They only helped for as long as the money came in, “If you get sent to Rampton, I can’t help you.”

Mycroft could have left her with just two options. To stay with him and work for him. She’d be his and, in some way, it would confirm the stability of their relationship in a new way. They could continue on the way they had as teenagers. Or she could resign herself to Rampton and the possibility of prison in the future. Instead, he had offered her a third option. He would let her go. They would officially end it all and she would disappear from his life.

“You can leave now,” it was said as cold and flat as she had said it when they were finished having sex for the first time. Only this time, she didn’t thank him as he left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft listened as she pretended to text on her phone. It was normal for her to sit around wherever he sent her and pretend to be engrossed in her phone, but she was really just sitting with it on so he could listen in. It was too costly to bug every car and cab in the country, but sending her out with a phone on was easy and cheap.

“Hello,” it was the doctor’s voice. The one who had taken up with his brother. The one he was going to try to convince to his side of things.

“Hi,” she said it with the bored tone he knew was directed more at him than the doctor. She hated doing this, but it was part of the job.

“What’s your name, then?” 

Mycroft half expected her to tell him to mind his own business, but she didn’t, “Anthea,” she actually told the truth instead.

“Is that your real name?”

“No,” he had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. She did things like that to bother him. He knew she did. 

The call cut off and he knew it was because they were getting close. A text did come through almost immediately after though, **“You owe me for this one. He’s hitting on me.”**

He didn’t bother trying to hold back the small smirk on his lips as he wrote back, **“I told you that necklace with that dress draws the eyes to your breasts.”**

**“You still owe me.”**

**“Dinner tonight and my place.”**

**“I want dessert too. No technicalities this time about dinner and dessert being different things.”**

With a sigh, he conceded, not that it was difficult to get him to break his diet and accept cake, **“Very well. Dinner, dessert, and my place.”**

**“You know just what to say to excite a woman, Mr. Holmes,”** he could practically hear her teasing voice through the text message.

**“We’ll take dessert back to my place and…”** he sent the message too soon as he saw the car starting to pull up. Mycroft shoved the phone into his pocket before leaning against his umbrella a little like a cane as the door opened and the doctor came out. 

She poked her head out the door and looked at him through the crack between the car and the door. She smiled playfully before ducking back in and the car drove off to wait for his signal to come back. He felt his pocket buzz a little and knew it was her. 

However, it would have to wait till work was finished.

Never ending was the work he did, but at least he would have a constant companion in it all.


	11. The Abominable Bride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1881 - In the Stranger's Room of the Diogenes Club, Mycroft receives a visit from an old acquaintance in desperate need of help. He has a decision to make on how, or if, he will help them and what he expects in return.

“Really, Mycroft, Dear, you’ve let yourself go.”

Not that it really needed to be asked, but he went ahead anyway, “How did you get in here?” it was fairly obvious. Wilder was late bringing in his breakfast. She’d knocked the poor old man out while he was getting the daily bread delivery in the alleyway, took his keys, and let herself in through the kitchen. It would be nothing for her to threaten the meger staff in the kitchen into going about their work and forgetting she was there. After all, it wasn’t the first time and so long as they did what she said, no one ever got hurt.

“Same as always. Wilder may need the day off tomorrow.”

“If you’re going to do this, at least stand where I can see you,” he sighed. Breakfast was going to be delayed today. He was already missing it, but there was something satisfying about the meeting he was currently having.

“Why don’t you turn to face me? Or are you reaching the point of mobility issues? Was this really the best answer to our problems, Dear?”

The feeling of satisfaction slowly faded away as she brought _that_ up again, “I have other reasons,” granted said out loud to a third party, he knew it wouldn’t make sense. So he avoided saying anything more in regards to that part of it, “You don’t affect me as much as you would like to think you do.”

Her dress was not in fashion, not that he ever expected it to be. She had always been a more conservative dresser. The bustles, draps, folds, and adornments women wore on the skirts of their dresses these days would never suit her. She still wore a corset. Something that constantly went in and out of fashion more times than he could count, but she still had it on. Even with her coat on, he could see the way it tightened in her waist and made her chest look larger. Her hat was more like a mourning veil. The thin, black material over her face just barely hid her green eyes. It matched the black material of her dress and boots. 

Always a woman in mourning over the death of her own life.

“I think I do. At least a little.”

“Bryony Ward. The girl who slit her father’s throat at the breakfast table, stabbed her mother eighteen times, and then proceeded to feed their bodies to the local pigs at the farm down the road from her house over the course of a year. All the while, embezzling untold amounts of money from his banking firm. Doing it so well, that they are still trying to track it all down even all these years later. Why would someone like you have any affect on someone like me?” he looked at her with slight disgust as he remembered the trial all those years ago. Not that it had been much of a trial. She hadn’t denied anything she’d done.

Her heels clicked a little on the floor as she walked closer and she picked up a plate. It was left over from the day before. No. That wasn’t right. It had been there for a day or two. Wilder would need to remove it before it started to mold. It was probably stale already. She brought up to her nose after pulling her veil up and over her head, “Caraway seed cake. You can’t stand the stuff...but it is my favorite.”

Bryony set the plate back down before she hiked her skirt up enough to slide into his lap. It wasn’t nearly as easy as it had used to be for her to do that. He had to press his thick fingers into her hips to help keep her in place. He could barely clench his fingers into her dress and hips the way he used to. She couldn’t even straddle his lap anymore. She used to wrap her legs around his waist, he’d clench his fingers into her backside, and have his way with her right in this chair. That wasn’t possible anymore. All she could do now was straddle one of his knees and he had to help keep her from sliding off.

“I’ve missed you,” such words of sentiment were beyond her, but they fell from her lips anyway. She was desperate.

“I assume finding a bedmate would be difficult for a murderess. Are things that bad that you would come crawling back to me like this? Surely there are ways for women to attend to themselves.”

Her red lips curled up a little in the corners, “I wasn’t talking about sex. Well, not just sex, at least,” her hands slid up his shoulders and her arms wrapped around what was left of his neck. He let his eyes slid shut for a moment and enjoy the feel of her fingers sliding into the hair on the back of his head. Touching had been minimal in the beginning of their relationship. Only what had been necessary to finish the job. Like all addictions, it took more and more as time went on to satisfy the itch.

“What is it you need?” how he would like to spread her out on the table and have his way with her right now. To feel her nails digging into his shoulders. Watching her bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep as quiet as possible. Little moans of pleasure escaping from between her lips and teeth as he took her, despite her constant efforts to keep from being vocal. Mycroft knew just what the scene in his head looked and felt like, because it was one he had experienced in the past several times. Not just with her, but mostly with her.

“The money is gone.”

He knew it would happen someday, but it had only been twenty years, “Where did it all go?” he asked rather sternly as he let his memories of their intimate times together disappear and cracked his eyes open to look up at her.

Bryony shook her head a little, “It’s not cheap to live outside of society without resorting to prostitution. I may be open to having various partners,” as they had expected of each other. He remembered her refusing him once because he admitted to not having bedded another woman in over a month. She had demanded he sleep with someone else before she would let him between her thighs again, “But I will not degrade myself to do it for money.”

“And you expect me to fund you instead?” it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money. His family had been well off enough and he certainly made plenty on his own, even in his current state, “I won’t do that, Bryony, and you know it,” his family couldn’t risk the association if the wrong person got ahold of the bank books. It was more than that though. Hiding money wasn’t difficult. Mycroft wouldn’t pay off the woman he used to sleep with. She had done this to herself and it was up to her to fix it.

“I wouldn’t take it even if you did offer it, Mycroft,” her voice was firm this time, “Employ me.”

He chuckled a little, “To do what, exactly?” he knew her mind. He knew how sharp it was. She was a genius with numbers. She was observant and methodical. Organized to a fault. There was little he couldn’t put her up to that she wouldn’t excel in. Fact of the matter was that she was a woman. Even if he could pass her off as someone employable in a man’s position, which would not be easy to do, she was still a convicted murderer and thief. She should be in prison right now. Mycroft denied involvement in her escape, but there was one person he knew could trace it back to him. Luckily, that person cared little for his personal life and had plenty to stay busy with.

“Don’t give me that. There is plenty for me to do. Pay me for the work and let one of your boys take the credit. Do you really think they will question taking credit for the work?” of course they wouldn’t. 

“What do I get out of all this?”

“What do you want?”

Bryony was desperate. He knew she was. The last time she had come here was five years ago. She had broken in much the same way as she had today. She had lost weight since then. He could feel it as he held her body against his. There were lines of stress on her forehead and beside her eyes. He could see heavy flecks of grey in her hair. Her dress was fraying a bit. She couldn’t afford to even have it tailored. He could ask anything of her and he knew she would provide it. Things she would only do for him if he asked, but would punch anyone else if they dared ask. Mycroft knew her better than either of them liked to admit. He was the one person she would degrade herself for in this situation.

How tempting it was to ask her to be intimate with him. There had been few drawbacks to his recent lifestyle. The people he saw were the same, the work was always the same, and...well...there wasn’t anything beyond that. His life was sitting in this chair for the majority of the day and then the all physically taxing process of moving to his bed at home for the evening. It was rare for him to crave the physical attention of a woman. Food had replaced the stress reliever that he had once used her for.

But having her so close again. Feeling her body against his, smelling her perfume, and remembering the way her body could give him pleasure; it was difficult not to want it. It didn’t have to be Bryony. Any woman would do, but she had always been his preference. If for nothing more than her indifference towards pursuing a proper relationship and knowing her mind wasn’t nearly as dull as most.

His body the way it was now made it more than difficult to pursue women the way he once had. The list of women hadn’t been a long one, but rather a rotating set of women who understood their place in his life. Those women had dwindled to zero in the past few years as his body changed. They were willing to deal with his restrictions on conversation and outside of the bed intimacy; but they all seemed to draw the line at losing physical attraction to him. 

Bryony admitted to having never found him physically attractive. At least not wholly. She would never reject him for that. So long as he could satisfying her sexually, she hadn’t put much into what his appearance was. Mycroft was sure he could still bring her to completion, but he was also sure she would forgo even needing that if she were desperate enough.

Perhaps striving to please a woman again would give him reason to give up this self destructive lifestyle.

It was easy to bring his thoughts back to reality as he felt her lips against his own. He hated it how well she knew him. Hated how well she knew that she knew him. She knew what he was thinking of. What he wanted. She would satisfy him and in return he would provide her with work to earn a living. They would both pretend like the sex meant nothing, as it used to, but that would be delusional.

For a moment, he allowed himself to give into the delusion and returned the kiss. It brought back memories. Sitting across from her father in her family home in her father’s study. She came up behind the older man to set down the tea tray. In a conversation lull, she pointed out a mistake on the papers. Stating that the math was wrong. Her father had shooed her off, but he saw the mistake too once it was pointed out. Eventually, he knew he would have found it himself, but she had found it first. He caught her eyes as she passed by him to leave the room. 

That night he had his way with her for the first time in the garden shed behind her family house. 

Her knee pressed up between his thighs as best it could and he knew he had to stop. Bryony was willing, but she wasn’t wanting. This was an act of desperation.

Sighing softly, he broke the kiss and leaned his head back some, “There is paper in the desk. Write down where to send the files and money to. It won’t be much, but it will be livable,” at least moderately so. It would keep her out of the whorehouses and drug dens, “You can’t risk being seen here. If you have need of me, you will seek me out at home,” he assumed she knew where that was. She had never actually been there, that he knew of, “If you come here again, you will be arrested.”

Her body slipped from his hands. Even if he had wanted to hold onto her, he couldn’t. His fingers couldn’t clench that way anymore. Her fingers dragged down his chest as she pulled away. He caught sight of her legs for a moment before she fixed the skirt of her dress. They were bare. She’d come prepared to give him anything. Bryony always did what needed to be done.

“Is that all?” she asked sternly.

There was no reason for him to hesitate, “Yes.”

“...very well. Thank you, Holmes,” the use of his family name was telling. It’s what she had called him up till three years into their strange relationship, “Goodbye,” her words were a little quicker and shorter than they had been when she first arrived. As she walked passed him, she paused for a moment by his side, touching his shoulder lightly, “I would have done anything you asked.”

“I’m aware,” he stared forward, “Leave.”

There was no response from her this time. Her pace was quick and he barely managed to say it before she was out the door, “Ward…”

“Yes?”

Mycroft thought his words over carefully. He wanted no confusion about what his request was for, “My maid is incompetent. She thinks because I am unable to check behind her as she works, that I do not see the things she skips on. I need someone to keep her in line and ensure things are to my standards. Knowing my home is in order would be greatly appreciated,” some, primarily his physician, would say he needed to correct his own physical condition to put his maid in her place; but this was easier and would allow him to continue his self destructive behavior.

“...I’ll be gone before you return in the evenings,” Bryony would never tell him to stop his new eating habits. No matter the relationship they had built, they both knew where the line was and strived never to cross it, "What name shall I give your maid?"

He thought for a brief moment, “Anthea Kirk.”

They hadn’t deserved what she had done in the severity that she had done it. However, she hadn’t deserved what had been done to her in the slightest. 

Nothing else was said this time. Nothing else needed to be said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to see more of Mycroft and Bryony the Abominable Bride setting (as if it had really happened and wasn't what it ended up being in the show), please let me know. Both prior to and beyond this scene. I'm toying around with it, but not sure yet. Just can't decide if it would be worth it.


End file.
